Teenage Rot
by blackoutFactory
Summary: Each of their faces were in a rictus of animalistic rage. These people weren't who they used to be, they were only beasts who wore their skins. Human! Tree Friends - Zombie Apocalypse AU. Rated T for Violence, Gore and Language. Rating may go up. Future Flippy x Flaky, Cuddles x Giggles and Handy x Petunia.
1. Disasterology

**Teenage Rot**

**Chapter 1**

**Disasterology**

* * *

Ginger pressed her index finger against her lips in a silent gesture of "Be Quiet."

Figures shifted nervously in the dark. The banging of hands against the windows shattered the silence. It never ended, it started with one of them, banging and slamming their hands against the windows until it lost interest only to be replaced with another of those _things_. Whatever those things were they weren't human anymore, they were just puppets controlled by this virus or whatever it was.

Collin's gaze moves to the aforementioned window, focusing on the current replacement. The man seemed to be in his twenties, he had black hair, pale skin and the most significant features were his black crow like eyes filled with blood-lust, the whites nearly gone, and sharp yellow teeth.

These zombies weren't as dumb as how Hollywood's horror movies portray them as. In fact they shouldn't be called zombies; they were smart, retained enough memory to use weapons or how to use things and they weren't as dead and rotting as they were shown to be. They've even seen one of those zombies smash a cop's brains in with a baseball bat.  
They should be called something else, something simpler and shorter, like, Changed or Zed? B_etter than Infected. It's kind of cliche_. Collin mused

He flinches when the man returns his leer, a leer that seemed to pierce through the veil of darkness they hid in.  
He averts his gaze right away, slinking backwards a bit more into the darkness's protection. He bumps into something, a table._ Oh crap_.

A dull thud breaks the silence; it is soon followed by a wobble of something on the table and then the shatter of glass.

Gasps and hisses of surprise and frustration are heard in the background and again return the silence but the air is much heavier; filled with fear and worry.  
All eyes are on the infected man.  
The man stares into the dark, its lips twitch upward and it steps back.

"Is it gone? Where's is going?" Tory inquires in a hushed tone. Before anyone had a chance to confirm it a brick is thrown through the diner's window and the alarm goes off and oh God. His heart sinks into his stomach and he looks at everyone else, they are all as panicked as he is, everyone else was frozen with fear.

It's only when that same changed man sticks its arm in do they make a move. Petunia, one of the waitresses, motioned everyone to follow as she snuck into the back door, an Oakwood door right next to the kitchen door, behind the counter.

The siren blared loudly as they, those things poured in, this would've been great for them if those lunch rush customers weren't blood-crazed and hungry for flesh.

Ginger fumbles with the doorknob, locking it.  
"Oh God. Oh God!" Lena splutters, "Now what? They'll find us out, they'll find out we're in here!"  
"First off, calm down." Petunia stops her.  
"Calm down? Calm down?" Handed repeats her harshly, "Are you fucking kidding me? We're about to be eaten!"  
"Wait, what about your pick-up?" Ginger exclaims.  
"What?" Handel stares at her as if she grew a second head, "What about it?"  
"We can drive out of here, idiot." Tory answered for the girl.  
"Oh, shut up, beaver-boy." Handel snaps.  
"Hey! -"  
"Yeah, your pick-up truck, where is it?" Collins cut in before an insult tossing game could be started.  
"It's at the back-"

Bang. Bang. **Bang!**

The Oakwood door rumbles as fists began rapping, banging loudly, and bodies tossing themselves at it attempting to force it open.  
The pounding slows as one of the Zed tries the doorknob; it shifts left and right rapidly.

Lena scrambles towards the exit door in fear as Collin and Handel jump to their feet, rushing to the metal storage shelf, pushing it down to at least buy them some more time.

"Shit!" hisses Petunia through her teeth as the doorknob twists right completely, "I thought you locked it!"

"I did. I just- I don't know!"

Tory gets to his feet, helping the two, successfully pushing down the heavy shelf, blocking the door as Ginger and Petunia rush beside Lena who was peeking out the door. "It's clear!" shouts Lena. The changed on the other side of the Oakwood door begin pushing it; the metal shelf budges just the slightest but stays in place.

"Come on. We got to get out of here!" Petunia calls out at the boys who shuffled to the door, Ginger and Lena already outside. They close the door behind them and Handel digs in his pockets to retrieve the car keys.

"Ginger, behind you!" a shriek, it was Lena.

Ginger turns around in a snap, gasping.

One of the changed is sprinting their way, just a few seconds from Ginger. Fresh blood dribbles down its open mouth. It growls like an animal, ready to throw its curled fingers to claw at her throat.

"Outta the way!"

And she does, Petunia pulls her out of the way just in time to see Collin's signature yellow skateboard pass an inch from her face. With an audible _whoosh _it slices through the air followed by a _crack_ as the man's head snaps to the right, a hyena-like bark escaping his lips. It stumbled, once, twice, trying to regain balance. It's saved from landing on its butt by a bandaged hand wrung around its neck that pulled it close and fast only to be met with a screwdriver to the forehead.

It's kicked to the ground by the bearer of the hand. Handel drove the heel of his boot repeatedly onto the screwdriver, driving it deeper into the man's broken mass of a skull. The only sound was the man's wet gurgle of an exhalation, a bubble of blood forming around its forehead.

Everyone stared in shock and disgust. "Dude, that was sick!" commented Tori his eyes moving from Handel to Collin who held his now slightly bloodied yellow skateboard. "Yeah, sick, more like I'm going to be sick." Petunia murmured turning around with a hand covering her mouth.

The crash of something from inside the diner and the shudder of the door had awoken them from their stupor. Frantically they stumbled to the pickup truck, Handel hurriedly stuffed the key into the car's lock, Petunia takes the passenger's seat, the other four in the rear cargo area.

Handel fumbled with the keys, sticking it into the ignition. It took him three tries to get the rusty old pickup to work while sirens sung in the background. They were lucky they were in the back alleyway and not in the driveway where those things were gathering. The back door of the diner had burst open , the changed began pouring out of the building and sprinting towards the pickup.

"STEP ON IT!" shrieked Ginger, one of the things, a woman, gripped onto the pickup's drop side. Handel stomped his bloodied boot on the acceleration pedal and the vehicle drove off but not fast enough to create a safe distance from the changed.

The horde was large, probably contained most of the small town's population. They were fast too, all in a competition to see who got their lunch first, trampling and jumping over each other. Each of their faces were in a rictus of animalistic rage, even from his spot Collin could feel their hunger and desire for bloodshed. He shuddered at the thought, crawling as further back as he could from their reaching hands. These people weren't who they used to be, they were only beasts who wore their skins.

As they drove through town, attracting the attention of the diseased along the way, passing by house after house, Changed after Changed even the helpless Spared doomed to die, Collin knew they were in for one hell of an adventure.

* * *

**AN:**

**Hey guys, Machine here. I'm sorry for not updating Heaven Above You, Hell Above Me I but I'm kind of stuck and I just didn't have the motivation to write it so here's another. It's is, yes, a Human! Tree Friends Zombie Apocalypse AU but there won't be just your regular zombies! I love zombies and I've been on a The Walking Dead marathon, watching season 1 to 3 and I thought, why don't I make a Zombie fic? I already have most of the plot set in my mind. **

**The narratives (Or Point Of View/ POV as you commonly say it.) will alternate between characters mostly Cuddles and Flaky for now. The other characters will also show up later on. There will be Romance too because why not?**

**Also, here's a little guide for their names, well for the characters in this page,**

**Collin – Cuddles**

**Ginger – Giggles**

**Petunia – Petunia (LOL.)**

**Handy – Handel**

**Lena – Lammy**

**Tory – Toothy**

**And yes I gave Handy arms so it is easier to write. XD**

**Now let me conclude this with; critics, ideas and reviews are gladly welcomed so if you have anything to say just day it in the reviews area.  
**

**I hope you'll enjoy this story as much as I will enjoy writing it. I'll be updating regularly and Chapter Two will be up soon.**

**Bye for now!  
**


	2. Disintegration

**Teenage Rot**

**Chapter 2**

**Disintegration**

* * *

_Rewind. _

Today was supposed to be a normal day. Today was just supposed to be like every day;

_Wake Up. Eat breakfast. Pick up some groceries, check. Oh, it's Mr. Popell and Curt, I should say hi._

A sound similar to a sonic boom erupted in the air, a ring expanding through the graying sky and disappeared just like that but the gloomy canvas above stayed.

Flannery's thoughts became scrambled, eyes clouded with white spots. She struggled to keep her balance on wobbly legs.

There was a thud from in front of her. "Pop?" a child, Curt most likely.

Flannery teetered as the world seemed to spin around her in vertigo, a nauseous feeling began brewing in the pit of her stomach. The white floaters around her vision burned black and multiplied until she couldn't see at all. Static fills her ears, in between the hissing are words, whispers, barely even audible.

Before she even notices, she's on her rear. Abruptly, everything stops as if nothing ever happens.

The floaters fade away, static quiets and the nausea subsides only to be replaced by a numb, barely there, headache. Her ears begin to tune in to the noises around her. Curt's puppy, Whistle, was whimpering and yapping. The kid himself, Curt, was tugging at her right hand, the other one was on her forehead, fingers massaging her temples. "Oh-Oh gosh, what was that?" she mumbled to herself. "Flaky." Curt called out. Oh gee, why did they always have to call her that? It was getting embarrassing.

"Flaky." Curt called out again, much more persistent. "Huh, what?..." she trailed off, what was Pop doing on the ground with blo-?, _Oh my God_. There was blood, just a little bit leaking out of his ears , but it was enough to send in her into panic mode. Whistle was barking loudly. She was stuck frozen, Curt still trying to get her to answer as to why _"Pop was sleeping on the parking a lot floor."_

Help. They needed to get help and fast.  
Flannery scrambled to her feet, a hand digging into her messenger bag.  
There it was, her phone! She pressed the on button.

Nothing.  
She tried again, pressing the little button a bit longer.  
The screen remained black. Not even lighting up just to tell her that the battery was dead even though she sure as hell remembered charging it this morning. She really shouldn't be wasting her time by thinking about something like this. The car, the car's near. She could just drive him to the hospital, simple as that.

Hesitantly, she kneeled in front of the man, dropping her grocery bag beside her and on the cold asphalt. With a hand wrapped around his still warm wrist she checked for a pulse. It was faint and slow. He was still alive, at least.  
He yanked his arm away from hers leaving her shocked. What she expected was that he heave himself up and say he probably needed to go home, felt ill or even say; _"Surprise!"  
_she didn't expect him to convulse violently as he pushed himself up. Nor did she even think about him vomiting his breakfast, spewing from his mouth. Amidst the putrid mixture of half-digested food and stomach juices were dark red splotches. When he stopped so did time. Flannery stared, starting to hyperventilate, poor Curt confused in the background looked between the two, his pup finally quieting down it's barks into whimpers.

Shakily, Flannery held her hand out, reaching for Mr. Popell's shoulder. Her thoughts raced in her already crowded mind_. Help him!_ cried one. _Stay away. Take Curt and the dog and leave!_ Cried the other.

"S-sir, are-are y-you ok?" she asked, stuttering as her hand was just an inch or two away from the man, choosing not to run just yet.  
Mr. Popell's head shot up to face her when her fingers had only brushed his left shoulder. Flannery jumped in surprise, landing on her rear for the second time.

Whistle began barking furiously but not an aggressive one, it sounded terrified. The one dogs make when you corner them. Flannery noted the blood and vomit caked teeth that seemed to have suddenly have become sharp, the man's eyes were different; entirely black, the whites and iris seemed as if it drowned in the black depths, like polished obsidian. Pop growled with such animosity that she was quickly convinced that this person wasn't the kind neighbor from across the street but simply a belligerent simulacrum of the old fellow. The air grew more oppressive every single minute.

Flannery stood up slowly as if a wrong move would cause the man to rip her throat out.  
Pop stood up too. Curt shuffled forward attempting to get closer to the man who was once his father. Instinctively Flannery rose her right arm, blocking the four-year old from getting any further.

The silence reigned once again. _Think. Think. Think!_ screamed her thoughts, _The car, where is it? _Flannery turned her head slightly to the right. There it was sitting there.  
The car seemed to beckon her to run like hell and into its safety and that was what she planned to do. Flannery lowered her arm to grip tightly on Curt's little hand.  
Pop, no, that monster shook it's head a wide grin plastered on his face. The once-man laughed as if he read her mind, as if he's seen others do the same and end up dead by his hands.

Flannery turned around. "Run!" she commanded in clenched teeth and with that  
that she bolted, dragging Curt and Whistle who both struggled to match her speed. She look back for a short second. Pop simply stood there with a rather amused and mocking grin. He gave her a head start and she knew he'd chase her when enough distance was created just to prove that he was much faster.

While she ran she pulled out her remote car keys, unlocking the doors.  
Halfway there she faltered in speed, scooping both the kid and his pup.  
_Almost there_. And that was when the changed man started his chase.  
He shambled clumsily and shambling turned into jogging and jogging turned into a full out sprint by the time that Flannery struggled to open the car door not even able to get a grip on the handle while making sure not to drop either of the youngsters in the process.

As soon as she managed to get a good grip on the handle she yanked it the door open, shoving the two in her arms into the passenger's seat. Before she could even dive in herself a tight grip on her hair harshly jerked her backwards. The white pain it induced seared from the roots to the rest of her scalp. Instinctively she tried to put her hands over her scalp in pain only to be kicked down whilst Curt and Whistle stared from inside of the car, unable to do anything but watch.

A harsh kick to the stomach and she was sent backpedalling further from the car, managing to keep her balance this time.

The man catapulted across the parking lot, leading with a fist. He was aiming straight for her face, one punch, a quick side swipe would be enough to trigger a blackout.

Flannery stared eyes wide with shock,  
At the last minute broke out of her paralysis stumbling back before the punch could be landed.  
She was no good fighter and knew that one wrong move and she'd be dead zombie fodder.

Without much thought she bulleted into the man, left arm bent, the point of the elbow sticking out, she was going to strike him with it. She knew she had to be careful, she knew an improperly conditioned strike would cause temporary or worse, permanent damage to the nerve.

She hit him dead set on the chest just as the changed man was pulling his fist back to launch another punch. Flannery hissed as the impact rattled up her arm and to the tips of her fingers.

The Changed shuffled back with an audible _unghf _  
arms flailing in a horrible attempt to catch his balance. Flannery used this as a chance, uncoiling, she swung her fist in a deadly roundhouse punch. There was a hollow _thud _as her fist hammered his chin. Popell's head snapped backwards and then he was spinning away. That was one of the things she had to thank a certain young soldier for.

Off-balance, Flannery tried to pivot but the cement was still soaked from the morning rain and was quite slick.

She felt herself slide. Fought to regain her balance but could not achieve it.  
The cold October air sliced across her face like razors as she fell.  
She screamed as the impact shuddered through her bone and wrenched her right shoulder.  
Her right hand was on fire, her fingers were numb and her wrist stung with pain and her elbow bawled.

She took in a frantic sobbing breath.  
_Is it broken? Did I break it? Oh God no. Please no. Pop, where is he? _

Her head swirled in panic and pain to look behind her, she didn't see it just yet but felt an attack. With a blur of red clothing, Pop was up. Lips curled back in a snarl showing off his impossibly sharp teeth as he loomed. That snarl turned into a toothy grin when the man looked down to a large plastic bag a few feet from him conveniently placed there. The plastic grocery bag that belonged to her and she knew that in it was a set of kitchen knives.

Pop knocked over the plastic bag, a few of the contents spilling out, kneeling down to grab whatever he could.  
It was a simple kitchen knife, the larger of the set she had bought. It was sharp enough and longer though it didn't have much cutting space.

She watched him bring down the knife.  
Flannery snatched her left arm from the blade's line and tried to roll away.  
The knife cleaved into the air, whistling, swishing close to her left arm.

She had a second to think _close_ only to scream as pain seeped up her arm. Her head snapped the left, a small meaty flap of flesh dangled lazily a tiny bit of blood oozing out. She screeched again with horror.

Flannery saw the knife coming down again. "No! No!" she rolled onto her back jack hammering her right boot into Pop's chin. There was a crack as the man's head whipped back with a snap. His jaw clamped tight with a _thwack_. A gurgling shriek erupted from his throat as he stumbled backwards again, but most importantly was that he lost his grip on the knife.

_Knife. Knife. Knife. Knife._ Her thoughts screamed.  
Ignoring the searing pain she forced herself to get up. It was right in front of her, lying there. She kneeled and clawed her shaky hands on the asphalt trying to get a grip on the knife's handle. Panic was engulfing her and she couldn't function properly.

She jolted up with the knife tightly in her left hand to see the man lying on his back, his head leaning on the tire of a cheap Smart For-two, out cold hopefully.

She knew he would get up at any moment. She had to finish this. _Kill him._  
Flannery couldn't believe that thought conjured in her mind as she strode over to the infected monster.

Her mind cried protests that this was murder while the other told her to just go ahead and kill him. She felt like a criminal even though she did it or self defense. She felt guilty for killing this man off even though she knew he was a monster. Poor girl couldn't even hurt a fly and here she was with a soon to be twice-dead zombie. The knife felt heavy in her hands, palms sweaty.  
The thing that made this ordeal more worse was the fact that she was going to have to execute the man in front of his son.

Her head tipped to the right to look at the aforementioned boy who was out of sight, his dog jumping in the back seat though. She rationalized that he was just sitting down as he was quite short so she wouldn't be able to see him and him with her. That lifted a bit of the weight in her chest.

And though hesitantly she lurched forward with a blast of speed and adrenaline, she rose the knife above her head, both hands gripping onto it and with that she plunged the blade into his forehead as deep in as she could.  
Crimson red bubbled around the wound and a starburst of gore erupted from where it could squeeze out, a few droplets splattered onto her cheek and orange sweater, painting it red.  
He stopped breathing and it was the end of that.

_I can't believe I just did that. _There was no pride in the thought, just a sinking feeling in her gut. Her eyes stung as tears threatened to spill. She shook her head, sucking in a breath as her hands continued to shake. She stood up, scrambling over to the driver's seat, making sure to grab the spilt over bag, yanking the door open and crawled in.

"Flaky?" she let the nickname slide, "Why did Pop do that?" the little boy asked. "Is he ok? Are you?"

"I don't—I don't know, Curt. Yes, he is now." She answered hastily.

"Oh, but. Why didn't he come with us?"

"Because he is—"

Sirens, that of a store alarm's, blared somewhere nearby in the town. The town was quite small and if anything like a robbery would ever happen and an alarm would trigger then everyone would hear it and this made it a bad thing because 'everyone' is more or less dead or zombies.

Curt covered his ears with his hand and the dog jumped up in the back seat barking like mad. Flannery twisted her head to face the left, where the dog was barking. Much to her despair a large horde had crept into view.

There were those few that were like Pop, those who looked as if they were still alive, the only thing that ruined their chances of actually fitting in as humans were their eyes and fangs, oh and the classical blood stained clothes.

Behind them were the Changed who looked quite like those classical Hollywood zombies; skin being either gray, a pale white or greenish-gray. Their eyes were just like the Changed though their teeth were quite different, much flatter like a normal human's. Some of them had their arms lifted, pointing forward, in Rigor Mortis as if they've been dead for a while.

In Flannery's view she saw that the smart ones were up on the front, there were five actually two girls and three boys, it seemed quite obvious that they were leading those dumber ones at the back.

They needed to get out of here, and fast. They could be easily killed and outnumbered as she was the only one who could fight back but that sure as hell wasn't happening in this condition.

"Who are they?" Curt asked, looking out the window and up at her, "Why do they look like the monsters on TV?"

She didn't stop to answer this time, sticking the key into the ignition and starting the car. She just wanted to drive out of there. Just get out and stay as far from those thing as possible despite the pain that pulsed through her right arm, her grip tightening on the driver's wheel.

"You're driving too fast!"

The car zipped through the deserted streets at such a speed Flannery never dared to achieve but there was no time to slow down and the fact that nobody else was probably around made it easier to drive around, no accidents, no problem—

Just as soon as they got into the intersection, a zoom cutting through air, at a speed faster than hers, on the left side of the intersection had caught her attention and it seemed to grow closer every second.

Flannery only had a split second to crane her neck to the left , just a split second to catch glimpse of a red mover's truck before the impact.

They jolted around. The sounds of metal crunching and screaming rung in Flannery's ears. She felt the car trip to the right as it skidded sideways, finally rolling over completely lying on its roof. I spoke too soon, didn't I?

Flannery's vision grew dim with a black haze , her consciousness slipped like honey through her fingers.

_Don't black out. Not yet._

* * *

Her eyes shut completely and she found herself drowning in a dark sea.

Her ears picked up a sound, something heavy shuffling on the concrete road.

Though her mind felt groggy it conjured random thoughts. Something was out there for sure. It could be one of those things.

_Those things._

The thought alone was enough for her to snap her eyes open. Her chocolate orbs darted around, she was panicking. She found herself upside down, her car wrecked. Everything hit her like a pile of bricks. What she hoped was simply a product of her mind was real.

Popell, The Changed, Driving the hell out of there with Curt and The car crash.

_With Curt?_

_Curt!_

She found the little boy hanging beside her. She thought for a moment there that he was dead but the fact that he was breathing calmed her down. She check behind her, oddly enough the dog was awake and dead silent, it's tail swished limply.

She stiffened remembering the sound slowly peeking out her window to, much to her surprise, a pair of black ,excruciatingly familiar , combat boots. She still couldn't trust that this person was exactly who he was, who knows? He might have been affected by the Zap too.

He—_It? _knelt down in front of the broken, one hand curled into fist, the knuckles on the ground supported his weight as he stared in surprise.

"Flakes? I can't believe you're still alive!" just as she had expected it was Phillip. He wasn't undead though, thank God. "I thought the Chuckies got ya."

Flannery replied with a hasty and quiet "I guess." , fiddling with the seat belt buckle.

"Let me help you with that." There was a click and the car door opened.

She was absolutely terrified when a curved blade had swam into view and she stared at him.

Phillip had knelt forward, his head poking into the car, he seemed quite focused on mercilessly cutting the poor seat belt. Then she realized something; she was still upside down. "W-wait no—"

Flannery rubbed her reddened forehead, a small bump had formed, it still hurt even after they got Curt out who had woken up by then.

She looked at the wreckage from inside his truck. "You ok?" the little boy beside her asked for the second time today. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

Fine, she was fine, her right arm still hurt but not as much as before, and she needn't worry about the cut getting infected thanks to army boy over there on the Driver's seat.

Flannery had noted the loads of gear in the cargo area with Whistle. Did he expect this to happen? It seemed impossible that he had packed _all _that during the outbreak especially when those things could just ninja their way in. She couldn't help but ask, "What's-what's with all th-that?" she asked tipping her head slightly to look back.

"I was, uh, I was going to go camping." Phillip added a rather nervous and humorless laugh at the end of his answer, shrugging.

Flannery nodded simply. She scooted further until she was pressed against the door while using Curt needing more space as an excuse as to why she decided to do that when in truth she was still uncomfortable around Phillip.

He was a ticking time bomb with that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder of his. If anything had triggered his little disorder then the person nearest would more or less end up with a broken arm or a big wound.

They used to be close, she remembered organizing his birthday four years before despite his protests. She grew terrified of Phillip after she saw him attacking Ginger, Petunia and D. Barry back in the amusement park because his disorder made him think those plane rides were actual enemy bomber planes.

Hell, she even developed _'Flippy-Phobia'_, Phillip's nickname Flippy courtesy of Spencer after his _'Flip outs', _she had even hurt him because she thought he was going to hurt her and they ended up flat out avoiding each other, well mostly it was Flannery who did. But that was four years ago, roughly two months after his birthday when the whole 'Flippy-Phobia' thing first started, and the fear, phobia, whatever, was fading pretty quickly but she couldn't deny that she wasn't scared even though he's proven to her that he was able to control his disorder more ; he didn't flip out when he saw the wreckage, the open wound on her left arm or the blood.

And out of everyone in the town she—no—they; her, Curt and Whistle had to end up with the most damaged person. But they were both damaged, were they not? Her with her Paranoia and him with his PTSD. How convenient.

The roads past the town were as empty. No Changed creeping about as the trees began to fill up the spaces outside of the roads. It was pretty much quiet, not the good kind of quiet. What do you say to a sort-of-ex best friend after 4 years of barely anything but short eye contact and greetings?

Before this got any more uncomfortable that same sonic-boom like sound had erupted once again in the gray sky. The sound of static fuzzed in her ears. The nauseas feeling and headache was back but not as bad as before. She managed to get a glimpse of Phillip and Curt next to her. Phillip's teeth were clenched and he didn't look too well either; he felt what she had. Curt on the other hand and given them odd looks, he and the dog didn't seem to affected at all.

The car had stopped abruptly. "What the—?" Phillip hissed, fiddling around with the keys and stomping the acceleration pad as if he had never drove a car before.

Whistle began growling and growling became barking as he ran around the tight cargo area. The ground shook under a heavy weight that seemed to have been caused from behind the trees.

The thing that squeezed out of the cluster of trees seemed as if it had extreme hypertrophy; abnormally increased muscle mass in the upper half of its body, in the arms mostly. It's lower half was less pronounced but despite that its legs could carry its enormous weight it's distorted anatomy forced it to knuckle walk on one hand. One hand? The rest of its right arm, starting a bit above its elbow was a giant red blade looking limb. The limb probably dyed red with blood.

It's jaw at first glance seemed to have been missing but as Flannery squinted her eyes it seemed to have just been enveloped by the thick muscles around its neck.

They were forced to watch, frozen; nobody made a move, as it rose the blade-like appendage above its head, bringing it down with a _woosh _as the weaponized limb cut through air. It slammed into the car's roof and—

She woke up sweaty and gasping for air. Her back hurt from the rocky floor beneath the paper-thin green tent. _What was it? Today was—today was October sixteen, two days from the outbreak in town which was on the fourteenth._ Though it was useless and unnecessary she still continued to keep track of the days, counting seconds and checking the time, the only thing she could occupy her mind with.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Curt was still sandwiched between her and Phillip with Whistle by the little boy's feet—Well, Phillip wasn't there, he was probably outside.

It was 7:30 as Curt's Garfield watch, oddly enough the only electronic that worked, informed her.

The dream was what had exactly happened two days prior. Well, not so exact with the Reaper part, _Reaper_, yeah, that's what she'll call it. The car did break down after the Zap, or what Phillip theorized to be an EMF. She was a bit skeptical of it; weren't EMFs usually harmless? The Reaper wasn't just what her mind had conjured, they'd seen that thing on the way to where they were now, lucky as hell that it didn't spot them.

She found him fiddling with a radio, twisting the knob several times, static blasting from the speakers.

"What're you doing?" Flannery asked though the answer was quite obvious. If they were stuck together, might as well try to get reacquainted. He shrugged, "What, are you suddenly as blind as Moe?" he laughed.

Flannery huffed, "W-well. I couldn't think of anything else to say."

Phillip shook his head with that dopey grin on his face before returning his full attention to the radio without another word. Same old Phillip; once something grabs his attention there's no way you could pull him out.

She hesitated before skipping over to sit beside him on a log in front of the dead campfire.

She noted that the radio was pretty old, like one of those retro or 80s radios. Retro just like Curt's watch, that of which she suspected used to be Pop's. She wondered where he got it or why he even brought it with him.

"I can't believe that still works!" she exclaimed though it was pretty useless to get him to talk, "It looks pretty old too." He simply shrugged, twisting one of the knobs, waiting for at least _something_.

Flannery pursed her lips, crouching a bit to pick up a random stick, poking the ashes around with it.

She ultimately froze when she heard a voice, barely there, coming from the speakers.

"Anyone—t here?" static engulfed the voice for a second, "If—is—Wo—Berry."  
"—Safe—ty—Su—ppli—Securi—"  
"I re—peat; If—out—th—eeere—….." The static blared again, the voice now completely drowned in it.

* * *

**A/N: Hey peeps. Sorry for the late update, school's started and I might only be able to update during the weekends so here have a long ass chapter.**

**I doubt the rest would be as long as this. **  
**I bet you're feels spazzing. I'm such a sucker for these pairings sooo..sorry not sorry. ^^**

**This chapter was much longer than I anticipated while writing, oh God. XD Oh and who is who might be pretty obvious so I doubt I'd need to tell you who they are. Some of the things mentioned here are pretty much based off of the canon events..  
**

**But I just want to let you guys know in advanced that "Evil" doesn't exist. PTSD doesn't work that way.**

**Gosh I really hate how the fight scene and car crash turned out and alot of parts here are pretty rushed so if you have anything like critics or suggestions go ahead and add it to your reviews, it's really appreciated!  
**

**Yeah, I don't know if you noticed but some parts are referenced from different zombies games/shows, if you can tell. XD**

**I'm going to kill someone soon...because I can. **(ʘ‿ʘ)

**That's all for now, see ya!**


	3. Life is Easy

**Teenage Rot**

**Chapter 3**

**Life is Easy**

* * *

They've been on the move now for what? Three days?

They were on the move for three days to a place called Woodbury and not _Woodberry_ as Flannery had heard it as.

It was admittedly a little odd for her to be eating from small packets pretty much where they cooked their food or something. She wasn't sure how MREs worked but at least knew how to use it as Phillip showed her, _"Put a bit of water here and it'll cook itself." _He told her.

They only had a week left of ration.

They had enough food to last the week but the one liter bottle of water was drained completely because of the extra weight; Flannery, Curt and the puppy, and they were down to Phillip's personal water bottle.

And that was why she was here, Curt and Whistle close by. The boy was perched on top of a flat rock that jutted out of the ground, occasionally dipping his feet or hands in the running stream with Whistle hopping and running, circling the rock. The water around the rock was only ankle deep for Curt but she wouldn't allow him any further. _I mean, who knows? He could step on a sharp rock or-or slip and hit his head! _Her paranoid mind would tell her.

Flannery rolled her jeans up, a bit above her ankles. She nor did Curt have any other clothes with them except for the ones on their backs. Get their clothes wet and well; somebody might end up sick, that and one of them would be wrapped up in a green towel waiting for their clothes to dry.

Flannery tiptoed to the edge of the shore, with a bottle in hand. The stream was shallow; armored with flat and round rocks, but it grew much deeper further on and into an abrupt drop into a riverbank. There was a moss covered log just above the drop serving as a bridge that Mother Nature so thoughtfully provided.

Sitting on her haunches Flannery dipped the bottle into the stream.

She tilted her head up to look at the sky. The colors bled together; red, purple, yellow and orange all mixed together to create the perfect backdrop. Just gazing up at the sky gave her a sense of tranquility. Even just temporarily did Flannery feel as if the horrid epidemic had never even happened. The sun's light brought along with it a refreshing atmosphere.

She wished things would stay like this but precious moments were meant to end; the sun was dying down and amongst the warm colors of the sky rippled streaks of gray signaling the exit of the day and the enter of the night but along with it came the sense of dread and the fear of what fear lurks behind the curtain of shadows.

It was just like a childhood fear that had returned to haunt her but it was now as real as ever. Flannery smiled softly, she reminisced her childhood days and especially the memory when her parents decided it was time for her to sleep on her own. She remembered her mother tucking her under the warm white and purple polka-dot comforters only for them to be woken up an hour or two later because little Flannery saw monsters in her closet. Her smile faltered. _Monsters _as much as she hated that word it was the only thing that entered her mind when she thought of those people, those who were once simple men and women.

Flannery fell on her rear for the umpteenth time this week jolting her from her thoughts. She snickered quietly, _Okay, so I guess I spaced out a bit there._

She stood up, screwing the plastic cap of the -suddenly heavy- bottle. _Not a task too hard for me. _Flannery mused, _I didn't need to use this either, thankfully. _Flannery gripped the slip joint knife in her liked how Phillip cared enough to lend her his Camper knife. She hated carrying a blade and would prefer only using it for last resort, just like with Pop back when the epidemic first started in their town, but didn't protest. She knew he was right about being prepared, anything could happen after all.

She wondered what it would be like once they get to the safe haven known as Woodbury.

Would life run on just the same? Would it be as if nothing ever happened? She didn't have time to think about this, not now. They needed to get back it was getting dark.

Whistle's romping around and barking immediately caught back her attention, she looked back to where Curt and the dog were sitting. They were still there of course. She knew Curt was a smart kid; he didn't need to be told twice to stay put.

What put her off was the fact that Curt stopped playing around with the water and had started staring at something hiding behind the trees.

"Curt? What-What is it?" She stuttered, walking towards the boy.

The kid turned to face her, lifting an arm up and pointing towards the cluster of trees with a smile on his face, "Look, Flaky, doggies!" She was taken aback, her expression incredulous. Her gaze moved to Whistle, the Collie puppy was barking like an angry Chihuahua, fur bristled and haunches rose.

Flannery immediately froze up, out of the shadows came a pack of three scraggly dogs. Two of a breed she couldn't pinpoint, probably mix breed, and the third looked like a German Shepherd. She could see a red collar wrapped around the German Shepherd's neck. Domestic dogs were usually no harm but she knew well enough that those mongrels would do anything when starved; they would even resort to attacking humans.

Flannery remembered one of the steps from Spencer's_ "Safety Program; Dog Edition" _and boy was she glad she didn't fall asleep again halfway through at that time.

"Curt, come here." She murmured shakily, avoiding the approaching mutts' gazes.

Curt gave her a confused look, now gripping Whistle's long blue leash in both hands but he complied, standing up from his sitting position and toddled close as Flannery crouched to pick him up. "Was matter, Flaky?" The young boy questioned with wide brown eyes. Flannery avoided the question hastily speaking when Curt swiveled his head slightly to look back at the dogs "No, Curt, look-look at me. Look at me." She said trying to remain gentle and calm. _"They can sense fear. Remain calm."_ Spencer's words entered her mind. Flannery tugged at Whistle's leash slightly and as if he got the messaged the pup quieted down and retreated to behind her. Unconsciously the bottle slipped from her grip. It landed with a _splash_ beside her.

The sounds of growling in rung in her ears and she found herself looking around, looking anywhere but the pack of growling dogs. _Don't move. Stay still. They'll lose interest soon enough. Don't run, you're only begging to be chased_. She told herself over and over in a vain attempt to calm herself down.

She tilted her head slowly, finding what they needed the most right at the moment; a tree. It leaned slightly, facing inwards onto the river. The tree had numerous, sturdy, branches all of which were quite close and just in arms reach.

If they could just reach it before the dogs caught up to them then they could just sit up there until those mongrels leave.

She turned to her side. The dogs continued to watch with bared teeth, she noticed the hesitation on their part; were they scared of getting wet or drowning in shallow water? She would've snickered at the thought if it weren't for their current predicament. Flannery swiveled, her back to the now provoked dogs. The red head's legs sprung to life as she burst towards their temporary safety with Curt in her arms and Whistle in tow.

She immediately heard the loud splashing of paws behind her and if Spencer were here he'd be scolding her for breaking one of the most important rules.

As soon as the tree was in reach she heaved Curt onto the lowest branch she was capable of reaching. An agonized, high-pitched whine followed by a scream of a name shattered her panicked haze now kicking her into complete overdrive,

Wasn't Whistle with them? She held the old blue leash in her hand, in the end it was indeed latched onto an empty —albeit too large for the puppy's neck—blue leash

Without even a split second decision she whirled around, whipping the Camper knife out of her pocket.

Her heart skipped a beat as droplets of crimson red cascaded into the stream, temporarily tinting the fresh water a translucent red before it was washed away. The German Shepherd had its jaws clamped around the back Whistle's neck and his throat the larger dog wasn't tearing him apart like she expected. It seemed to just hold him there a he whimpered.

Flannery sprinted towards them; she was even barely able to even make it there when one of the other dogs, the spotted one, lunged at her. The force was enough to knock her down. The knife was flung out of her hands when she failed her arms trying to gain momentum. The knife soared in midair and landing with a disheartingly audible splash, wedging itself in between some of the rocks below the mossy matted log. As soon as her body made impact with the ground she yelped in the hot white pain that rippled through her still recovering arm.

In complete instinct Flannery lifted her arms wringing her fingers around the mutt's neck (or at least half of It.) And its snapping jaws, clamping its mouth shut for as long as she could manage.

Her head pounded, the only thing she could here was the rushing water that she was half submerged in and the ringing in her ears. She allowed herself the two second luxury to roll her eyes back, tilting her head up a bit. The third dog was barking up at the tree Curt was perched on.

She noted that their attack was a bit coordinated. They seemed... Smarter? If this epidemic was really also affecting the animals than she hoped it was only this pack. Things were already bad as it was and she didn't want it to get even worse.

Phillip had a tendency to show up without warning. Usually she'd be spooked out of her wits but him randomly popping out right now seemed pretty convenient at the moment.

The dog was strong. It snapped at her, slobber dripped from its mouth—

Her gripped slipped from its gaping maw. She expected it to go in for the kill but they all seemed to have stopped. The dogs visibly tensed, something all so sudden.

Spotted sniffed the air, whimpering a_ wuff_. It was seemingly ignoring her as if she had suddenly disappeared.

The pack of three shared a short glance. The air was heavy with apprehension.

They bounded off before Flannery could even blink, running off in an opposite direction from whence they came.

Flannery automatically stood up. The pain in her recovering arm was numbing slowly.

Whatever that had scared them off; she didn't want to find out.

She craned her neck to where Whistle was, the dog trudging towards her, obviously shaken. She picked up the little pup. They really need to go back the Sun was barely in sight and the Night's claws were already spreading through the sky.

The dogs didn't seem rabid at all, they just seemed to attack out of hunger but she still didn't want the wounds to get infected no matter how small and shallow they seemed. There were two marks; one on the left side of Whistle's forehead, raking down whiles the other his right cheek. It seemed more like claw marks than bites. "Flaky, you okay?" Curt called out from his spot.

Flannery turned around, walking with a bit of speed. "I-I'm fine. Whistle got scratched. We need to go now, o-okay?" She lifted her hand, reaching out to Curt.

Whistle barked behind Flannery, the same tone as before.

As if the dogs weren't enough.

She could hear gunshots nearby, _way _too close for comfort and she hoped it had nothing to do with Phillip. She could feel the fear bubble in her stomach again; Whistle obviously felt her fear as he whimpered up at her.

Simply forgetting about her original intention she lifted Whistle up towards Curt who immediately got the message. Curt wrapped his arms around his puppy. "Don't m-move, just stay here." Her hands shook as she instructed them. "Where are you going?"

'Just stay here."

Flannery knew from enough horror movies (that Collin and Ginger forced her to watch with them.) That splitting up was and is always a terrible idea but she couldn't bear them getting hurt, they were only small. They couldn't protect themselves.

Luckily for her the branches were quite close, as mentioned before, and were full of leaves; enough cover that could hide them, even better if whatever was out there didn't look too close.

What else had she learned from those movies? Of course, never ever check out the scene from where a sound or something originated. She wasn't really planning on doing that, it sounded like a suicide mission but someone could be hurt.

Somebody might still be saved but that would mean another person being lured there to be killed and she wasn't planning to be that _other person_.

But if she really needed to go then she wasn't going without a weapon.

Walking back towards the river with hesitation she neared the log bridge. It wouldn't be so hard; the log wasn't too far up from the water. She could just grab for Phillip's knife then maybe they could stay down for a bit.

If she believed it was safe they could get their asses out of there. _Easy, right?_

She toddled on the log, keeping her balance quite easily. Getting to the center where the rocks were gathered beneath her, she crouched; one hand on the log to keep her from slipping, the other reaching for the blade.

The water was cold around her fingers. She managed to dip her hand in and luckily for her the tool was sitting up vertically, tipping a little when the water flowed around it. She needn't worry about it being dragged down deeper; it was firmly wedged in between the smooth rocks. Something she noticed.

She managed to poke the tip with her middle finger, not close enough to grab it though.

Flannery leaned forward a little bit, catching the sheathed blade in between her middle and pointer fingers this time.

Flannery paused.

For a moment there, she thought she heard Curt call out to her.

She leaned closer, getting a better grip this time.

"Yes!" She cheered quietly, finally fishing out the soaked Camper knife from the water.

It was such a small celebration but the knife, no matter how much she dreaded them, gave her a small sense of security—

She heard the crunch of leaves and twigs underneath a weight. She expected their green-eyed friend to have found them.

When she looked up however she made eye contact dead eyes. Dead eyes that she first thought was unintelligible and unfocused. But they stared back, its gaze powerful as a predator's and she just felt like a mouse under that glare.

The man wore what a typical hunter would as shown in television shows; a black parka with a simple blue plaid flannel shirt poking out of it, a pair of jeans and a knit hat atop his head and a pair of rubber boots. His clothes seemed slightly ripped with a bit of tiny holes, probably from an animal attack or they could've just been snagged by branches?

The thing before was unlike anything she'd ever seen before because of how frog-like this man was, his slimy fingers, that glistened underneath the last of the sunlight, were very long and gnarled with a thin layer of skin between each of them, she couldn't tell if the thing's feet were just the same as its hands as it was covered in its shoes. What really irked her was its wide mouth, if she looked closely she could almost see tiny needle like teeth, a long tongue-like appendage lolling lazily from it.

It was going to go for her and instincts told her not to move one bit lest she wanted to provoke the thing. Her eyes moved to Curt and Whistle hidden in the tree, the abomination by the shore followed her gaze.

From her angle she could slightly see Curt with Whistle in his arms, the pup's lips were curled in a snarl. The man stared at the tree even as her eyes moved back to it.

What really set it off was Whistle's barking.

She knew he couldn't help it but she really did wish just once the puppy would stay quiet.

Flannery nearly cried out when it launched itself towards the tree.

Biting the Camper knife in between her teeth to hold it in place, she leant forward again and reached her hand into the water. The stone that was pulled out was barely the size of her fist but it was jagged and light.

Time seemed to have slowed for a moment as the monstrosity reached the other side of the stream. She rose her other hand from the log to help with her aiming. In the small second she had she threw the rock with a perfect aim, hitting it right in the side of its head, all those games of Baseball with the boys proved to be have been useful, huh?

The recoil was what made her loose her momentum and the moss matted log didn't help at all. The monster now completely pissed off changed its target to her and just as it turned towards her, she slid backwards off the log, the Camper knife escaping from her grasp.

Flannery screamed in terror as she plummeted. Just as she had hit the water she felt a searing pain explode at the back of her head. Despite forcing herself not to, she opened her mouth in a pained sharp gasp only for her mouth to be filled with water.

Her mind grew muddled, vision blurred. She her body grew faint as water filled her lungs. She felt as if she no longer had control over her body, allowing the water to drag her wherever it went.

The last thing she heard at that moment was a crack of a gun, a loud splash in the water near her and a silhouette edging towards her.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, this took longer than I originally intended and I won't try to reason my way out of this one. But here's another slightly long chapter.**

**Flaky gets knocked out a lot, LOL.** **After Chapter 5 we'll be moving back to Cuddles for a bit.**** I hope you guys are okay with the cycle; 3 or 4 chapters for each character POVs?**

**And yes, I know Flippy has a Bowie knife but it would make a bit of sense for him to bring something slightly more smaller.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys like the story so far. If you have any constructive critics, comments, corrections or even suggestions go ahead and put it your reviews. All are appreciated! 3**

**This is going to be a REALLY long fic I've got most of the plot set so get ready for an adventure!**

**Also, I'll be changing my Pen name to blackoutFactory later on. I just want you people to know in advance so there won't be any mix ups. XD**


	4. Keep Me Warm

**Teenage Rot **

**Chapter 4**

**Keep Me Warm**

* * *

Flannery woke up with a start, gasping for air. The back of her head was throbbing and her entire body felt sore. Wiping the sweat off her forehead she sat up.

The events of the past few hours were still fresh in her mind. Hours? She wasn't quite sure but she knew it was still dark out due to the lack of light. That or the canopy above was blocking out the light, seeing as it was quite thick. Feeling the bump on her head caused her to hiss.

Were Curt and Whistle okay? She was back in the green colored tent that must've meant that Phillip had found them and that also meant that everyone else was okay.

They were probably outside too judging by how the fire crackled outside and the soft voice of Curt telling a story about some old cartoon. She didn't even know if she heard it right.

She found herself wrapped in a green army jacket that held two tags above its breast pockets one reading _Orso_ while the other read _US Army_. Beneath the jacket she wore a red plaid patterned flannel shirt with a pair of Cargo pants all of which were hilariously over-sized for her small build.

She pulled the jacket tighter around herself, burying half her face into the collar. The jacket smelt like honey a scent she grew so familiar with over the years and had never forgotten. It soothed her in a way.

Her eyelids felt like tons, the grogginess from just waking up still there. She yawned; it wouldn't hurt to get a bit more of sleep, right?

Flannery lay back down. She yawned once more, eyes fluttering closed.

Just as she did however she was forced to open her eyes, well, halfway there at least, as a _zwip_ of the tent's zipper entrance opening caught her attention, a head poking in like a curious dog.

Phillip probably didn't expect her to be awake already because as soon as he looked at her he beamed warmly, "Looks like Sleeping Beauty's finally woken up."

She puffed her cheeks, the teasing was still there.

She blinked at the green-haired man, barely keeping her eyes open for more than five seconds "How-how long was I out?" she slurred with a bit of drowsiness in her voice.

Phillip sucked in his left cheek; forest green eyes stared at a spot above her in mock concentration. "About an hour and a half." he answered eyes now back to her. _An hour and a half? _He made it seem like she was asleep for a week!

"What happened?" she questioned with another prompt yawn. He chuckled at her before answering the next question, "I heard something go off nearby," she was slightly surprised that he didn't flip, "I thought something probably happened to you three so I decided to go check it out. I found some old Chuckie guy instead, saw where it was headed and followed it around for a bit." he paused, "Had to blow its brains out when I saw what it was going for then I had to save your ass."

"Then? My stuff?"

"Uh, they got soaked, obviously, so I had to take them off and...Well, you know." his cheeks were dusted with pink and she couldn't help but crack an amused grin. "We don't have to go to that part, right?" he stuttered.

She shook her head; "I was asking where they were, y-you dummy!" she hiccuped in between fits of giggles.

"Oh, hangin'."

"Hanging out with whom?" she joked, sitting up. Flannery swore this random playfulness just came from nowhere.

"Shut up." he laughed along, "They're just hanging on some branch behind the tent."

She smiled a bit, it was as if they were still best friends and she hadn't avoided him for years.

"Is she awake? Lemme see!" she could hear the little boy shout from outside. A small hand was pulling, more like tugging, at the hem of Phillip's shirt. "Mooove, move!" Curt drawled.

"Geez, kid. Hold your horses." Phillip stepped back, him being replaced by the young boy who came bursting in along with his puppy, does that dog always stick to him? The kid launched himself at her. Curt wrapped his arms around Flannery's neck.

"Flaky, you're okay!" she wrapped her arms around him in reciprocation. "Of course I am." She smiled

Call it maternal instincts but she felt the need to protect the kid, he was just so small. She wanted to shelter him from this disintegrating, corrupted world but she knew the boy needed to be exposed to it. People had to toughen up, even she herself, for the easy days were long gone. It felt great, though, having something to fight for. He was just like a little brother to her and she'd try to protect him, and the pup, with all she had.

Her stomach growled like a freaking whale. Surprising her and causing Curt to bark out a loud laugh. Breaking the hug she crossed her arms, "Shush, you." Flannery playfully chided, poking the boy's forehead.

"I guess, you're hungry." Phillip noted, poking his head in the tent.

Her stomach answered for her; growling again but at least not as embarrassingly vociferous as before.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Flannery urged Curt out first followed by Whistle and herself. The dark that surrounded them seemed abysmal; the moonlight was indeed blocked by the thick canopy above their heads the only thing that lit the small area was the crackling fire that tinted their skins orange as they settle down on the ground.

"We saved a bit for ya." Phillip offered her a packet_._

_Some vegetable Lasagna, good choice, even though it's kind of cold. _Flannery picked at the small plastic spoon inside. Though almost everything Phillip had packed was meat (She hated meat; it was from something that used to be alive and slaughtered and that made her shudder.) she was at least glad he decided to over pack.

A hand tugged at her sleeve and she looked down, setting the packet on her lap, to face its owner. Curt had a tin can in his hands the contents smelled like, chocolate? That was new. "I made it!" Curt said proudly a wide grin on his face.

Flannery took it in her free hand. "Thanks." She muttered, it was hot chocolate... or _was_ hot chocolate. "Where did you get this?" she inquired, directing the question mostly towards Phillip.

"Flippy!" answered Curt who turned to look at the said person. Of course, she already knew that.

She gave him a questioning look. He seemed hesitant at first but answered her, "There was...there was a camp nearby." His voice was quieter than usual. He almost seemed a bit pale as if he'd seen a ghost.

"You...You stole it?" she demanded reason immediately.

"I didn't _steal_ it." he countered defensively, arms crossed, almost like a child accused of taking a cookie from the cookie jar.

"Those people were long dead anyway. What use did they have for it?"

She dropped her look. The act was like a crime to her; a petty theft, almost like Blood money.

"Think about it; what if this _Woodbury_ place has already been brought down to its knees or if we were declined entrance at least we'd have a bit more of food to last us a few more days."

Flannery sighed. She couldn't find anything to say. It was pretty useless too, fighting over hot-cold chocolate.

"Who were they?" she asked, lightly brushing her index finger against the tin can's cold surface. It was probably a group they may have been familiar with, this might explain his behavior.

"A couple we don't know, thankfully." He responded with a sudden stolid expression.

She didn't question him any further and returned to picking on the meal inside the packet with the small spoon. Everyone stayed silent for the time being, even Whistle for once, until they all had to retire from the night.

Flannery sat up perched on the flat rock beside the fire. Philip had the decency to clean the open wound, she got days before, and re-wrap her bandages for her while she was conked out at least. She returned the sterilized strips of cloth, antibiotics and the other bits back inside a knapsack she was sure Phillip had—_looted_. The hefty duffel bag he carried on his shoulders was getting cramped and brimming with so much stuff that she decided to move a few to the knapsack he brought back along with a few cans of food.

She blinked her dry eyes, sleep suddenly hard to capture. Hardly even suppressing a shudder when a gust of cold wind danced past her even with the jacket wrapped around her frame.

She hated being alone. The thought having sprung up suddenly now that her mind was unoccupied. She hated being alone because it provoked unwanted thoughts.

Dread crawled up her spine as her eyes began to play tricks on her. Shadows danced and ran across her field of vision, frames easily made out with the fire's light, all shaped differently, some were lanky others were round but they all had an ominous presence.

The uneasiness Flannery had felt became even worse when she envisioned a bloodied and battered, deformed man with a long lolling tongue and clawed, gnarled fingers lunge at her from the curtains of shadows. The eidolon seemed so solid and real that she was almost surprised that she wasn't being strangled at the moment.

The wind's billowing sounded like howls to her and the mash up of auditory hallucination and paranoid ideation caused her to completely jolt up from her sitting position and nosedive back into the packed tent.

She was quick to zip up the entrance and curl in her usual spot beside the dreaming child who snore quietly. Her brash actions nearly roused Whistle from his sleep but the pup promptly fell back into dream-land (If dogs dreamt, that is...)

Flannery squeezed her eyes shut, still quite shaken. She felt herself more or less calm down at the companionship of the three with her.

She tried to force herself to sleep by keeping her eyes closed.

After a few minutes that proved ineffective, much to her dismay.

She felt a hand lightly graze her shoulder followed by a comforting squeeze. She opened one of her eyes, taking a peek at the person opposite to her and beside Curt.

Phillie's eyelids drooped lazily, he seemed to be fighting to stay awake and obviously losing. He had his lips curled up in a lopsided manner. "Get some sleep will ya, Flakes?"

He muttered closing his eyes again falling right back to sleep. Flannery simpered in return tucking her chin into the jacket's collar.

He kept his hand on her shoulder for a bit before subconsciously pulling it back to his side.

Before it reached its destination however she snagged his hand in hers, hesitatingly interlacing their fingers.

She deemed the gesture as platonic affection though she was unsure herself.

The next day was uneventful just like the days prior, well, excluding the "_Chuckie jump-scare" _yesterday. Flannery woke up with a massive bed head not that it bothered her; she never really tried to fix up her wild red hair even before the outbreak.

She took her clothes from the branch of the tree behind the tent. Content that it had dried a bit; it looked like she would be stuck with Phil's clothes for today. Flannery was pretty damn happy that she decided not to wear her sweater on that day otherwise it would've shrunk. Flannery stuffed her clothes in the knapsack that on unspoken agreement between her and Phillip was now claimed as hers.

The rest of the day was spent on hiking until the sun went down. They were about to settle in a small area until the sounds of thrumming and soft humming came into earshot.

Flannery felt like jumping with joy when they found a wooden structure. Bonus points when she saw light illuminating the inside of the building!

The floors creaked beneath their weight. The place was dusty and seemingly empty if not for the classic music that echoed throughout and the lights that flickered every few minutes. The first room was an office— a Ranger's office as confirmed by Phillip.

A door behind a desk and chair piqued Phil's attention who immediately walked up to it. There was a piece of paper taped to it a sign that read; _"Rest here, take what you need." _in a rushed scrawl. Beneath that and written in much smaller letters were, _"Keys in the drawer."_

Flannery was first to reach it. She yanked it open, not seeing a key in the drawer but scribbled on paper, pencils and other random things. She shuffled through piles of trinkets and other junk to find a bronze key beneath it all.

Flannery pulled it out with a victorious grin then handing it to Phillip.

He lingered for a minute, as if deciding if it was a no-go or a go, he proceeded anyway.

The key fit, as expected and he yanked the door open expecting the worse.

The room adjacent to the office was a small living room furnished plainly with a beige couch with a coffee table in front of it and a newspaper rack beside it. On the walls were small paintings and picture frames of a group of people. There was a dusty phonograph leaning on one corner of the room. An unlit fireplace.

Somebody was here previous to them, there was a small bag with a cartoon cat printed on the front its contents spilled on the floor. The childish bag they had found in the living room was filled with clothes that almost fit Curt, probably owned by a seven year old along with a few other knick-knacks but aside from that, the music playing and the lights above their heads there was no evidence of other life in the house.

The living room was connected to a few other rooms, when they checked three were bedrooms. Two others led to a small kitchen and bathroom. There was another door but it was locked.

Upon inspection the three rooms were quite similar, each were painted dull beige with unevenly worn Oakwood floors. The three rooms were rather cramped with a bed with a window next to it or behind it in the case of the first room, a wardrobe and dresser which bless their souls, had clothes in them; a few uniforms, outdoor clothes and pajamas and they were poorly organized too. It looked more like a hamper than anything else. Somebody surely was in a hurry to pack up. What was different however were the posters on the first room, a pile of books on top of the second room's drawer and a carpet on the third beside the bed.

The kitchen had a medium sized refrigerator, an island and a stove along with the typical kitchen set you'd see with a few kitchen cabinets above it.

The bathroom next to it was well— pretty uninteresting like the rest of the structure but the water was running at the very least.

Despite its lonely atmosphere Phillip had insisted they check the entire area.

'Look, there's a door on the floor!" called Curt from inside one of the bedrooms. "Don't open it!" Phillip called out to the boy. Turning to Flannery; "Let's see what he's found this time."

Flannery simply nodded in return. The pair rushed to the third bedroom. Apparently Curt had tripped over the carpet in his explanation when asked what happened. Whistle had his nose running over the carpet. The carpet was rolled over just a tad to show a sturdy wooden trap door.

"We should see what's inside..." Flannery suggested, tentatively reaching out her hand. Her fingers brushed over the cold steel ring handle and she shuddered at the ice cold feeling.

Phillip huffed in approval, having Curt move back with a "Stay back, kid." as he pulled the carpet off the trapdoor that laid flush against the floor. Curt complied without a question, tugging Whistle's leash to urge the dog to follow.

Flannery put all her strength on pulling the door open. Her fingers curled tightly around the steel ring. Before Phillip could even offer her his assistance the trapdoor opened with an ear-rippling screech of wood scraping against wood.

Her action triggered the release of a plume of stagnant air. The dust floating within it caused Curt to sneeze, who had come closer to see their find. "Can you please get the flashlight, cub?" Phillip inquired, looking towards the kid.

Curt nodded his head rapidly, quickly running out of the room with Whistle trailing behind.

Curt returned in no time with a medium sized flashlight in hand.

With wobbly steps he gave it to Phillip who immediately took it before the child tripped under the weight.

"We'll need you to stay here, alright?" He questioned, flicking the flashlight's switch on.

"Why can't I come?" Curt asked quizzically in return instead of an answer. "You could get hurt." Flannery spoke up.

"No I won't. I can take care of myself just fine!" Curt was defiant. He crossed his arms with a pout on his face.

"Well if you can take care of yourself why don'tcha stay up here and watch out for anybody who barges in?" Phillip shined the beam of light in the dark room below, lighting a small spot that the darkness had let go of to reveal to a staircase that simply led downwards.

"Fine then, I will." Curt grinned at them, "And I can kick their butt too!" He added, posing in a sort of mock fighting stance with his fists raised.

Flannery laughed at the kid's actions. He was easily swayed and she was glad for that.

Phillip scaled down the staircase followed by herself. In the light shone dust motes that floated around. The smell was much powerful down here from upstairs. The smell of rust adding to it.

Flannery could see a basket filled with clothes leaning against the wall and she immediately suspected that this area was the laundry room. The floor was cemented and so were the walls around it. There was an adjoining room blocked off by a wall but could easily be accessed with the door. A washer and dryer laid beside the door, a puddle of water leaking close to it.

"If Petunia was here with us she'd be having a field day." Flannery casually commented to which Phillip laughed in return.

There was nothing particularly interesting to them in the first room. All curiosity was set on the door.

Phillip did the honors of unraveling the mystery inside it. As they inched closer he didn't even hesitate to twist the knob and open the door.

One step in—

_**CRACK!**_

It seemed so much like gun fire but it only happened once. She heard a dull thud as a flare of white light blinded them for the shortest second before everything turned dark save for the dropped flashlight on the ground that beamed at a wall inside the connected room. It revealed tiny glass shards and—

_Oh, God. _Her stomach churned when she saw a hand lazily lying on the cold concrete. If it was even connected to a body she was not sticking around to find out.

Turning to Phillip she waited for any indication that they leave the basement immediately. What she was met with however was a ticking time-bomb whose eyes were screwed shut, palms resting on his temple. He gritted his teeth with a pained expression. He wasn't as stable as she thought.

Worse part was; she couldn't do anything. She didn't know what to do.

Phillip swayed in nausea and he looked like he was about to tip over even though he was leaning against the concrete.

Flannery reluctantly walked closer to reach out and steady him, calm him down.

His large calloused hand caught her wrist in flash like a Venus flytrap. Flannery was the epitome of utter terror at this point the situation was so morbidly familiar, so—so surreal that it just seemed like her Post-incident nightmares of the Fair only she was the one being attacked. Not DB, not Ginger or Petunia but her.

Thoughts that spiraled in her head only elicited a panicked reaction and she started furiously trying to jerk her hand from his grip which only caused him to tighten his hold on her wrist until she knew it would bruise.

Coming to the realization that it was useless she stopped completely.

He would always try to strangle her but his grip was always weak with her, nothing serious, Phillip would never hurt her, not hurt her until she broke a bone or bled like that Mime guy.

She felt tears pooling around her eyes, a few already managing slide down her cheeks.

Flannery lifted her eyes to his face.

He simply stared back with what seemed like glowing predatory yellow-green eyes a stark contrast from forest green ones that she's grow much accustomed to. She thought herself bat-shit delusional, that was impossible. This was all in her head, false imagery.

"Don't _touch_ me." He hissed at her between clenched teeth, tightening his bone-crushing grip.

She shook her head, a strangled cry escaping her lips.

And that is when he snapped out of it, blinking his eyes. Phillip hastily let go of her hand as soon as he realized what he was doing.

"God, I-I'm so sorry, Flannery. I didn't mean to—"

Flannery was quick to turn around and just get the hell out of there. Just run away like always whenever this happened. It was like she was pulled back into the past; avoiding her fears and the demon boy she used to, and subconsciously still did, deem as her friend.

She walked past Curt and Whistle who immediately pick up her distress and asked a curious, "What's wrong?"

She plopped herself on the bed in the second room, occupying herself with one of the classical _Nancy Drew_ books the previous occupier kept around, she made sure to pack some of it in her rucksack bag. Flannery kept herself there for the time being, allowing herself to calm down a bit. She was glad neither of her companions decided to go after her.

Flannery locked herself up in the room, as childish as it seemed, until she eventually had to force herself out to get something to eat.

Phillip had long gone up the steps, probably seeing what was in there too as after their short lived dinner, which consisted of the occasional "I'm sorry" and "It's okay", he had insisted that they stay close though they were far from civilization, and that meant less infected.

Phillip had chosen to patrol the area for a short amount of time.

He was pretty damn paranoid, a thing that was usually her trait, and insisted they stick together and stay in the living room aside from splitting up into separate rooms.

And in that time being Flannery had to haul the pillows and mattresses into the living room, with the help of Curt of course.

She laid the mattresses side by side in the middle, pushing back the couch and coffee table to make way for them. Curt hastily dropped the pillows wherever on the mattress. It came with white paper-thin blankets, not that Flannery was complaining—This was much better than sleeping in a tent with the rough earth beneath it.

Phillip came back shortly after.

"Found anything?" she inquired. "Nobody else but us." He shrugged, "But I found something though."

"What is it?" _Was all this suspense really needed? Gosh. _Phillip simply showed her a key that he explained he had found on the ground. "I think I may know where it goes."

"Got the same hunch, Flakes."

The garage was rather dusty. The dull thrumming of the generator filling in for its lifeless atmosphere. The rangers had two vehicles, which Flannery thought were as dead as the people out there like most of the electronics and tech they had.

"The genny isn't gonna last long." Phillip noted, the generator's oil supply was quite low. She doubted it would even make it to the next day. Flannery made sure to shut off anything they didn't actually need, a habit she picked up from her grandmother. Phillip had told her that he found the garage gate while making sure there wasn't actually anyone else out there.

"It could be only be unlocked from the inside, as far as I could tell. I might've missed the lock. It was dark anyway."

There wasn't anything else interesting in the garage to check out.

When they returned to the main room Curt was simply occupying himself with a coloring book he had found in the bag. They didn't take too long each taking a turn to take a shower, finally after of just hiking around like some _born survivor_ in a TV Show, and it was immediately lights out for everyone.

Flannery was immediately woken up some time in the night by a sudden panicked uproar soon followed by heavy foot falls. She'd noticed that the bathroom's light was on, the door hanging slightly ajar. Beside her Curt and Whistle were asleep, as if they hadn't heard a single thing.

She followed the footsteps she had heard a quiet as a mouse.

Phillip convulsed as he retched. Dry heaving whatever little food he ate. Flannery pushed the door open to allow herself inside. She absolutely stunned.

The fear of repeating the same mistake was so debilitating it rendered her to stand fixed to her spot. Only then when he actually stops and sits in place to compose himself does she even try anything.

She utters a soft "Are you okay?" _He obviously isn't. _Phillip keeps silent, wiping his mouth with his arm.

Flannery approaches him crouching to his level. She rests a hand on his shoulder, he visibly tenses at that. "Yeah, I'm fine." _Lie. _They sit there for a while, him taking a breather until he had calmed down enough to move.

Flannery helps him up. He stands on shaking legs as she leads him over to the kitchen. Allowing him to sit down wherever around the dining table.

She offered to get him water while she flicked the light switch on.

"Just—Stay here, okay?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

It took her no time at all to return with a glass, offering it to him. She opted to sit across him; pulling the chair to settle herself down in front of him.

Phillip was as pale as a ghost. He looked quite shaken up and that wasn't a thing Flannery was used to seeing on him. He always seemed so fearless.

He just sat there motionless, riveted to his chair with the glass of water in hand. "Was it another nightmare?" Flannery asked. This wasn't quite new to her. He just looks up at her in affirmation.

"Would you…m-maybe want to talk about it?" she fiddles her thumbs under the table unable to hold eye contact.

"No. It's-It's fine."

_It's fine, it's fine_. That's what Phillip always says. Whenever anyone tries to help him out at all the only thing he does is push them away to sulk over his God damn problem. He gave up much too early to even be helped.

Flannery frowned, eyebrows scrunched in agitation and dejection. As much as she'd like to call him out on this _again _she chose not to push him any further, not that she had the energy to do drag this out longer than it needs to be either.

She sighed exaggeratedly she didn't have a short temper but this was beginning to upset her, could be that she was woken up abruptly but it mostly was with the fact that he was just acting the way he did all those years before, one of the reasons why they distanced themselves from each other.

"Okay." Flannery mumbled, eyes downcast to the floor.

"I'm sorry." She looked back up to him again with a questioning look.

"For what?"

"—It's just about the war. You already know that."

" Of course I do."

"Then I don't see why you need to know." Irritation begins keying into his voice.

She stares with surprise at the random bout of anger. Her mouth opens once as if to speak but had immediately shut it when she saw his fist clench around the glass, it looked like it would just break at any minute.

"Phillip I just want to—"

"Phillip I just want to what?" he imitates mockingly, already on his feet. The glass slammed onto the table.

With a fit of confidence she answers, "I just want to help you."

"Help me? Help me how? You can't fucking help me. The pills don't work and all those therapy sessions with that idiot moose of a man don't help either! What makes you think you can fix anything?"

She stands up herself the infuriation boiling in her killing off any feeling of pity or doubt.

"My God, you are _such_ a stubborn child! How do you expect to pull through when you don't even let anyone help you? All you do is mope in your house and keep to yourself!" she bites back, a hand raised and an accusing finger pointing towards the green-eyed man in front of her.

He's undoubtedly seething with hints of surprise at her sudden outburst.

"Well what about you? You've been giving me the damn cold shoulder for years!"

Flannery doesn't give him another second to respond, she groans loudly hands tugging at her wild mess of red hair almost trying to pull them out by roots. She swiftly around to storm out of the kitchen.

"Shit, Flannery. Get back here!" Phillip shouts, regret already flooding in his voice.

He's quick to tread after her. "I'm sorry. Fuck, stop crying."

He found her no doubt tearing up in the room she had locked herself in a while before. She was curled in a little ball a hand kept her folded legs to her chest, front teeth digging into her wobbly lower lip to keep the shaky sobs from escaping. Her free hand was clenched in a fist and furiously rubbed at her already irritated eyes.

Over all she looked like an emotional wreck and she couldn't help but mentally berate herself for being so weak and crying over a stupid fight.

He reached out for her. Flannery flinching at the contact expecting something harsher.

Phillip tugged her hand prying it gently from her face. She was stubborn; quick to snatch it back to herself, easily slipping her hand out of his.

"Stop that."

"Just go away, Phil." Her voice wavered, tremulous with soft sobs. The hand she had just yanked back now on her face, covering the eyes that she had just clinched shut.

Flannery heard the wooden bed frame creak underneath his weight. A pair of arms wrapping around herself and pulling her in. She of course as obdurate as ever, now that she was clearly upset and wishing for privacy, squirmed and pushed him until she was dragged onto his lap in a forced hug.

She forced herself to relax slightly, returning the hug and crying onto his shoulder. A wave of relaxing nostalgia flooded her in; she missed this. Something they used to do for each other. Tori always jokingly coined it as "_Feels jamming_" and it kind of fit too.

They stayed like that until she calmed down entirely. The red haze of anger lifting from her mind enough for her to remember Curt. She was pretty damn impressed with the fact that the kid hadn't woken up at all even during the shouting match. She expected the dog to come up barking towards them but that never happened.

Seeing as none of them could right away go back to sleep they shared little stories as they did before.

Flannery about her childhood monsters. They took the time to catch up on each other, recalling what they did away from each other's presence. Both laughing about that one time when Phillip lost his shit while his job as a volunteer Librarian and having to kick out a bunch of imbeciles out. The conversation twisted and warped into random topics and time passed quite quickly.

"I was just, scared, you know? I wasn't really thinking either and I'm pretty sorry for losing your knife." Flannery recounted the events prior thoughtfully. "Don't worry, it's with me." Phillip fished out the knife from his pants pocket. He moved his gaze from it to her, "You can have it." He held it out. She accepted it shyly, "Thanks…I guess?" he nodded once with a grin.

Flannery wrapped her fingers around the camper knife contemplating for a bit.

He broke her train of thought with a , "When you think about it you believe that there are so many things you could've done but in the heat of the moment you can't really do anything at all."

She looked up to him again humming for him to continue. "Hell, I used to think that way."

Flannery pushed her legs up to her chest again, the duo having already broke their hugging some time before, she rested her head on her knees already knowing where this was going.

"Back in the war we had this guy, yeah? We called him Rhino mostly because he reminded me, Monty and Sneaks of a Rhino. I would always think he was hopped up on steroids or something—Wait, but that's not the point!"

She couldn't help but giggle, he always rambled.

"Aright, the mission was _FUBAR_! We were outnumbered and outgunned. I saw it coming before anyone else." He talked animatedly, which she found amusing, a hand lifted up as if to show something falling from the sky.

"I managed to get out of the way just in time when it hit." With his hands he gestured an explosion minus the sound effects.

"I saw the Rhino guy on the ground and I was the closest to him so I immediately had to help him."

His face darkened for a second and she expected the worse.

"What's wrong? Did…he die?" she questioned quietly hazel eyes widening.

"Nah," Phillip snorted with a chuckle, "His face got rearrange though…"

"He told me to kill him and finish him off but I couldn't. I really couldn't. We had to carry him back to take cover though and he just kept pleading for someone to shoot him in the head. We just waited until help came."

"The guy made it but his face was a wreck and apparently he told his buddies that," Phillip coughed, leaning close with the best redneck impression he could muster, "You best tell that _sunuva-bitch_ Orso that I'm gunna kick his ass."

Flannery immediately bursted out laughing because that impression was just down-right terrible, "Then?"

"I got my ass kicked, literally, the end." Phillip clapped his hand together with an amused smirk.

That only caused her laughter to intensify this time joined with a chuckling Phillip

"Guys, I'm trying to sleep!" whined loudly a voice from outside the room.

* * *

**Oops I accidentally a Southern-ish Flippy.**

**I am officially the world's slowest author. I promised this three weeks ago, yo.**

**But here it is! Enjoy! And oh my God it's the longest chapter so far.**

**EDIT: Fixed some of the errors. If you find anymore notify me!**


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